


Want 3: Hold

by Teland



Series: Want [3]
Category: due South
Genre: Desperation, Frottage, M/M, Obsession, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-07-19
Updated: 1999-07-19
Packaged: 2020-12-21 02:29:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21067286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teland/pseuds/Teland
Summary: The day progresses.





	Want 3: Hold

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to Kellie Matthews and Maxine.

Fraser breathes deeply, feels small muscles within   
his hand clench painfully. His body was ready to   
grip Ray as tightly as possible to hold him right   
where he was.

Keep him. 

Fraser could not leave this place, and Ray could not,  
either. It had almost nothing whatsoever to do with  
Ray's apartment, his couch... though it would be a   
lie to say that Fraser does not wish this was in   
Ray's bedroom... a dark, shadowed place unlike the  
rest of his home.

"Ray?"

He feels the untidy sprawl of limbs on his lap   
stiffen, freeze utterly for a moment that hardens  
him again. How long had they been here? Ray's   
left hand is still on Fraser's shoulder, though the  
grip has loosened. 

His head is bent, his breathing too shallow.

"Ray?"

And the grip on his shoulder tightens again, a   
muscle in Ray's jaw flexes once, stills. Fraser   
settles for cradling the hot, damp curve of Ray's  
skull and gives the silence several more moments.   
He is rewarded with a brief stutter of movement   
as Ray straddles his thighs a bit more firmly,   
deliberately stretches his spine.

Fraser feels the play of muscle under his other   
hand. Ray is listening, but he doesn't want to say  
anything. Would prefer it if Fraser stopped   
speaking, probably.

Are they supposed to simply remain here until   
they sleep?

Fraser does not intend to spend this night alone.

He does not know whether or not to stifle the   
conviction in his mental voice. This isn't... it is not   
an easy thing, and Fraser can see that his mood   
has blighted Ray's as well. It's clear the other man  
expected something different from this. Fraser   
realizes he's pushing too hard at the same moment  
he realizes he can't stop. 

For a moment of awesome clarity he wants nothing  
more than another kiss, but by the time he has   
tilted Ray's lips to his own he knows it won't be   
enough. 

But their lips are swollen, the sensitivity heightened  
and Fraser does need this thing. Whatever else there   
may be out there for him, this kiss is salve to some  
hurt, somewhere. It's good, and it brings Ray closer   
to him, makes Ray open to him. 

The hand that was on his shoulder shifts and Ray   
has one arm around his neck -- a little awkwardly  
as Fraser was moving at the same time, slipping   
his arms around Ray's slim waist and pulling him   
in closer still.

Who will stop him? Is there no voice to correct him  
in this? Fraser feels suddenly that he'd always   
known Ray wouldn't stop him, though the truth is   
something far different. It's all right for the truth   
to change sometimes, isn't it?

Warm, moist air between them now. The kiss is  
broken and Ray has forgotten. His eyes are open   
and open to Fraser's. The colors are lovely things,  
unexpectedly bright surrounding the deep black   
pool of the pupil. Shifting constantly, the brief   
rainbow of a sharpened blade in sunlight. 

Ray's other hand is between them, slowly moving   
up Fraser's chest until it settles on his nipple. A   
pause, then. Ray is utterly unreadable and then   
Fraser is caught gently, deliciously between the   
other man's fingers.

More trap than squeeze but it's all right. He wants   
Ray to hold all of him, would stretch the man's skin   
over himself if he could. For any small part to be   
taken, held this way.... He wants to believe the   
relative smallness of the act is simply inversely   
proportional to the way it makes him feel, that the  
brush and capture of his thorning nipple is as   
much as anything could be.

But Ray is holding his gaze, waiting for him...   
Fraser arches his back a little, pushes himself   
against Ray. He manages to keep his lower body   
still but Ray does not, shifting in a motion   
somewhere between resettlement and thrust. The  
other man's mouth is open, red wetness only   
imaginable. 

The angle of sunlight is wrong for Fraser to see   
anything but more darkness within that mouth   
and then Ray *is* squeezing, twisting just a little   
and Fraser grunts, breathes.

Tightens his hold helplessly for a moment,   
knowing that Ray's arm is trapped between them  
but unable to make his body care about that. He   
needs more of this right now and the couch   
seems uniquely designed to keep him from it.

A bed, the floor... either would allow him a flat   
surface to pin, be pinned still and available to any  
touch. Ray feels a mass of tangled rope in his arms,  
his grip can be nothing but uncertain --

And Fraser has bitten the base of Ray's throat before  
his mind had even moment to consider consenting   
to the action. He can't bring himself to move. It's less  
a bite than a grip, and Fraser can feel the helpless   
arch of the other man's throat and the beat of his   
pulse and the jerky, half-hesitant touch of his hands  
to Fraser's own neck, face.

A finger traces over his upper lip and it's all he can   
do not to growl. Thumb pressing at the corner of his   
mouth, another hand carding through his hair. A   
soothing touch.

He does not want to be soothed, but to shake it off   
he'd either have to let go or risk hurting Ray...   
already he knows this will leave a dark, heavy bruise   
on the other's pale skin. The caress continues,   
smooth and inviolate even to Ray's own harsh   
breaths.

Ray's words.

"Please... Fraser, you..."

Fraser's almost sure Ray doesn't really know what to  
ask, but he still can't stop himself from flicking his   
tongue over the trapped flesh, over and over. The   
hand in his hair shudders and stills. 

Fraser pulls away then and Ray's head falls forward.   
His eyes are closed again.

"Open your eyes, Ray."

Unthinking obedience -- Ray's eyes are a little fuzzed,  
bleary. Fraser has the absurd urge to make him put   
on his glasses and *see* him. Every touch he takes   
from Ray is a question Fraser knows the other man   
can't really hear, and so he must get his answers any  
way he can.

Ray focuses slowly and gives Fraser confusion,   
desperation.... Fraser shifts and watches Ray react to  
the friction of denim against his nude flesh, to the   
brush of their cocks.

He has to close his eyes for that, let himself feel this  
thing that makes Ray moan, toss his head. And that's  
the last thing he can take before he tumbles them   
both off the couch, careful of Ray. Making sure he   
lands cushioned by Fraser's own body.

Ray laughs for a moment, nervous, hopeful giggle.   
Fraser knows Ray wants the mood to break. 

He flips them over and gravity conspires to push   
Fraser down, press Fraser to Ray here, and here. The  
laughter breaks off in a sharp gasp and Ray arches.   
Rubs himself along Fraser's body, thrusts up several   
times heedless of anything but his own pleasure.

Yes.

Fraser dives in and takes his mouth, has his tongue   
sucked in the moment he thrusts and moans. Tries   
to brace himself in a better position but the feel of   
Ray's legs spreading beneath him, cradling him   
against damp heat --

He rolls them onto their sides, bumping the coffee   
table slightly, barely restraining himself from  
pushing it over entirely. Wraps his arms as best he   
can around Ray and twines them together. One hand  
settles on his hip in a way that can only be   
interpreted as possessive.

*Yes*. And he's almost positive that he's managed   
to say that aloud but when he feels Ray pushing   
down on his jeans it doesn't matter anymore.

He breaks contact and it hurts so much he feels   
there must be blood on his mouth, on his chest  
but he shakes it off and quickly removes his   
jeans the rest of the way.

The hardwood floor is unforgiving to his buttocks   
and he moves over to Ray again, offering himself   
and praying for greed. Feels himself pulled on top   
of the other man, feels his body kneaded and   
explored. In his mind he sees Ray's rough, tanned   
hand imprinted against his back, sees himself   
twisting and pressing down.

Down and covering him and there is an untimeable  
moment when Fraser sees himself trapping Ray   
between him and the floor. Ray wouldn't be able to  
get quite enough air but he wouldn't fight no he   
would never fight this.

Something tears deep inside him and Fraser cries   
out. Ray's eyes flare open again, large and dark...   
it's harder to see the lightness around it, the   
blue-grey hazel of it. Once he saw them golden, but   
Fraser does not know how to get that color back   
again.

He buries the brief flash of irrational fury in his   
kiss and it's not a surprise when Ray feels the   
difference immediately and bucks, a purely   
muscular movement reminiscent of something   
powerful deep within the sea. Not really human   
but so much his Ray...

Fraser does his best to ease back but can't stop   
himself from slotting himself back into the vague   
groove he'd found before, that place, that slick   
hard basket of heat that takes his cock and takes   
and takes...

He can't hold on to the growl this time and the   
kiss is broken for a sharp terrible moment until   
Ray leans up to claim his mouth again.   
Acceptance, desire... Fraser loses control of his  
hips completely and soon feels his blood, his soul  
spill and spill all over Ray's body.

When he loses that final strength that keeps him  
from crushing the other man he falls heavily,   
awkwardly.

And Ray screams short and harsh into his mouth  
and comes. 

Moments pass and Fraser buries his face against   
the side of Ray's throat. Feels Ray's hand come up   
around him for only a brief second before falling   
away. The steady pound of the heart below his   
own makes the raggedness of the breath briefly   
irrelevant, but Fraser finally forces himself to roll  
off. 

And can only watch as Ray immediately bounds up   
from the floor and begins to pace.

"Ray --"

"Don't. Just... don't, Fraser."

It's absurd to be hurt by his own last name, Ray   
has never really called him anything else, but   
Fraser feels it.

"I'm sorry."

"That's not... you can't apologize for something like  
that, Fraser."

Like what? But he knows the answer as well as he   
knows Ray won't be able to put it into words. He  
can't, either.

"Why didn't you say something before, Fraser?" 

Ray turns to look at him and Fraser can see how   
tense the lean form is with every tiny shift, every   
breath. His mind registers Ray's nudity, the mixed  
semen on his belly... there's something wrong   
about talking this way when he can still barely   
breathe. Quick, unfathomable gesture and Ray is  
moving again. 

"I couldn't think of anything --"

"Shut *up* Fraser."

Flash of anger and he's too raw, too close to   
experience to want to bank it. "You have to let me   
speak if you --"

"I *can't*." And Ray turns to him and his eyes are  
still so dark --

Fraser feels himself moving and then Ray is there  
and he moves them both back against the wall.   
Squalls of motion through the other man's form,   
brief and shattering. Presses closer and tries to be   
moved, broken with each shudder. 

And then simply presses harder and harder until   
Ray is still again save for the thudding pulse that   
Fraser wants as his own. 

"We can't... this is too much --"

Fraser catches Ray's mouth in something less a   
kiss than a stifle. When he breaks contact again   
there is silence.

Slowly, slowly Ray lowers his head to Fraser's   
shoulder. He is still when Fraser squeezes him   
gently, still when Fraser runs his free hand up   
and over the bruise at his throat.

Still when Fraser traces it evenly, unerringly   
with his thumb.

"It's all right, Ray." And he knows it will be true.

End.


End file.
